


what a match, i am half doomed and you’re semi-sweet

by PrinceDrew



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Gift Fic, Happy Birthday!, I mean for my standards, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, Light Angst, M/M, Talks of Death, connor lived au, mostly just Connor and Evan talking ngl, talks of funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 20:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12778827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceDrew/pseuds/PrinceDrew
Summary: It wasn’t like he was notnotwelcome there, he knew that, because Connor invited him to join him - even if was just a simple text at lunch saying ‘come over’ - but he still didn't feel that comfortable in the Murphy’s house, still felt like he’s going to knock over and smash some priceless Ming vase even though they had no such thing, still not used to the fact Connor’s bedroom just looks bigger than Evan’s living room -“Do you ever wonder what your funeral is going to be like?” Connor asked, and when Evan looked back, he was flicking his lighter on and off. On and off. “‘Cause I do. I wonder about it a lot.”





	what a match, i am half doomed and you’re semi-sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asilra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asilra/gifts).



> Hi yes I would like you to all know this is a birthday present for Isabella aka mostamazingtrees on tumblr who is just like a really chill and amazing person and I’m glad we chat together okay bye
> 
> (And Isabella I am so sorry this is not my usual standard I swear I will rewrite one day so it’s better!!)

Mrs. Murphy greeted Evan like she always did when she opened the door, smiling at him, pulling him in for a hug.

“Connor’s in his room,” she told him when she let go, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “Dinner will be ready soon, could you tell him that for me?”

“O-Of course,” he said, not letting go of his backpack straps, trying to smile back at her, biting back the urge to call her ‘ma’am’ because she would always follow it up with ‘it’s Cynthia, please’. “I’ll let - I’ll him know.”

He went to Connor’s room, counting the steps he took. Up to eight, and back down to one. One two three four five six seven eight, and repeat, trying not to worry about whether or not he was leaving muddy or wet footprints on their floors.

The door to Connor’s room was slightly ajar, and Evan knew from before that Connor didn’t like him hovering outside - “It’s too much like my mom, Evan, c’mon, you can just go in.” - so he pushed the door open a bit more and slipped inside, shutting it tight behind him.

Connor was on his bed, sat crossed-legged, his headphones on, gaze fixed on his phone. He didn’t glance up as Evan walked him, not until Evan coughed a little, at which he jolted, head whipping around to stare at Evan like a wild deer, until he actually saw who it was, his shoulders dropping a little.

“Hey Ev,” he said. “How long have you been there?”

“About ten seconds,” Evan said. He clenched his fists so he wouldn’t bite his nails. “W-Why did you want me to come ‘round?”

Connor shrugged, putting his headphones and phone down on his bedside drawers, picking up a lighter instead. It was small, half empty and made of blue plastic, smaller still in Connor’s hands. He couldn’t see if there was a pack of cigarettes anywhere, but Connor tended to keep those in his school bag, because his parents didn’t actually check that most days.

“Just wanted to see you,” Connor said, like he didn’t quite want to say it, and Evan nodded, because that was - that was fair. Sometimes he just wanted to see Connor, but he didn’t mention it a lot.

“You can sit down, you know,” Connor said, not quite smiling at Evan, but Evan had gotten used to Connor not-quite-smiles, so he smiled back and perched at the foot of Connor’s bed, and then Connor looked away, so he looked away.

It wasn’t like he was not _not_ welcome there, he knew that, because Connor invited him to join him - even if was just a simple text at lunch saying ‘come over’ - but he still didn't feel that comfortable in the Murphy’s house, still felt like he’s going to knock over and smash some priceless Ming vase even though they had no such thing, still not used to the fact Connor’s bedroom just looks bigger than Evan’s living room -

“Do you ever wonder what your funeral is going to be like?” Connor asked, and when Evan looked back, he was flicking his lighter on and off. On and off. “‘Cause I do. I wonder about it a lot.”

Oh.

If it were anyone, he would have said no. He would have told them not to be so - so ridiculous, of course he didn’t wonder about that. No, he didn’t wonder about his funeral, because that 

But this was Connor. He had told Connor worse things.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, looking at his shoes rather than at Connor. That was a thing he never got about the Murphy’s. They wore shoes inside the house, and shoe-shoes. Not even slippers. “I’m guessing you do too?”

A hum of agreement. “Of course I do,” Connor said. On, and off. “I mean, why wouldn’t I? It’s my funeral.” There was a silence for a moment. “Burial or cremation?”

“What?” He had to turn to Connor then. The lighter was still in his hands, his thumb still near the striker, but he wasn’t moving. He was just staring at Evan, his hair half falling in front of his face.

“D’you think you’d be buried or cremated?” he asked, with long, slow blinks. “I mean, those are the only two options, aren’t they? Unless you do something weird like being turned into a diamond, but I think even then you need to be cremated, so…” He stopped then, shrugging.

“Cremated,” Evan replied, looking away again. He needed new laces for his shoes. “It’s cheaper, than b-being buried, c-cause you don’t have to pay for l-like, the plot to be b-buried in or - or a headstone.”

Funerals were expensive. Funerals ruined people.

It was better, really, if Evan was buried. Well, it’d be better if he was alive. But if he did die, and was buried, then maybe people would remember him more, even if it was just a dog walker in a cemetery glancing at his headstone.

“My parents would probably help your mom to pay for it,” Connor said at last. “If it ever comes to that. They like you enough for it.”

Evan shook his head, worry snaking its way up inside him. “My mom wouldn’t accept it,” he murmured. “She’s - she’d say thanks but no thanks.” He crossed his legs, and then uncrossed them, glancing back at Connor. “What about you?”

Connor snorted at that, but he put his lighter on his bedside drawers, and he inched closer to Evan. 

“Probably buried,” he said. “Like, I see my mom wanting me cremated to keep my ashes close or something, but my dad will probably push for burial.”

It was weird to think of Connor like that. Of ashes, of being still, and not the still Connor normally was when he was just watching people, but being still in a suit in a box, not even his chest moving.

Of not being Connor.

“…y-you’re not p-planning anything, are you?” Evan asked, his voice going low, and quiet, as though Cynthia were just outside the door. “I don’t - you’re not - I…”

He trailed off. So many words clogged and ran through his mind and tried to be heard out loud, that he couldn’t think. Couldn’t move his lips. Couldn’t say ‘are you okay?’.

They were both silent a moment more.

“…no,” Connor said at last, but he wasn’t looking at Evan. “At least - at least not now. I’m good for the time being it’s just…” He shrugged, and when he looked back up, he was biting his lip.

If Evan didn’t know what Connor looked like when he was going to cry, he thought he was going to. But he knew better.

“I mean, the way we’re going, one of us is gonna attend the other’s funeral at some point aren’t we?” he asked. “Like, even if we live to be eighty or some shit and we don’t die in so tragic fucked up young adult novel way, one of us is gonna be at the others funeral and I just… just got thinking about that, I suppose.”

Evan could only bring himself to nod, and think about Connor at his funeral.

Connor… Connor wasn’t the crying type. When he did cry, he didn’t even notice it, or even denied it, tears vanished to his jacket sleeve. So he wouldn’t be crying. He wouldn’t give an eulogy, because Connor didn’t do eulogies. He’d sit on the front row though, in between his mom and maybe Evan’s dad if he bothered to show up, and he hold his mom’s hands because she would need and he would need it.

Maybe Connor would be playing with a lighter at Evan’s funeral. Maybe he wouldn’t even show up.

Evan couldn’t even think about himself at Connor’s funeral.

“Boys! Zoe!” Mrs. Murphy’s voice called. It didn’t sound as close as it usually did. “Dinner’s ready!”

Neither of them moved. Connor just kept staring at Evan, lip still bitten, and Evan could only stare back.

“...we best head down,” Evan said at last, turning away from Connor. He still had his backpack on, so he slipped it off, and put it at the foot of Connor’s bed.

“...yeah,” Connor murmured.

So Evan stood up, and started to head to the door, mentally preparing for tasteless only to stopped went he felt something - _someone_ tug at his sleeve, so he turned back to face Connor.

“Stay the night?” Connor asked him, peering up at him from where he was sat. He swallowed, and looked away. “Just… stay the night, yeah?”

And Evan nodded, and smiled at Connor, like it was all he had to smile for.

“Of course,” he murmured. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this fic! If you have any questions, liked the fic, have feedback or noticed any mistakes, post in the comments below, or at my tumblr [here](http://princedrewwrites.tumblr.com). I'm getting better at using it, I swear! Or, if you just liked the fic and don't want to say anything, just leave a kudos. There's no pressure either way


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